


100 Days

by delightful_fear



Series: To All the Tropes We’ve Loved Before [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Homeless, Alternate Universe - Never Met, Baristas, Cupcakes, M/M, Past Abuse, Tropes, mostly fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-04-24 02:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19164121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delightful_fear/pseuds/delightful_fear
Summary: Blaine owns a cupcake bakery.  On a quiet, rainy day, a stranger walks in...Based on the ‘Ultimate Battle of the Tropes’ posted by spaceorphan18 recently on tumblr, I’m clumping a bunch of the winning tropes into about five stories. They will all be SEPARATE works in this Tropes series.  This story has THREE.





	100 Days

**_January 21st..._ **

Blaine pulled up the roller blinds on the large front windows, and sighed. Rain was coming down in buckets. The weatherman had predicted it would only be overnight, but he had clearly underestimated it. This looked like it could go on all day. He was still adjusting to having rain all winter instead of snow.

He went through the motions of opening anyways, turning on all the lights and taking the chairs off the tables, arranging everything to be comfortable and welcoming if anyone braved this weather. 

Pouring himself a large coffee, he added milk and sat behind the counter. He pulled out the large book he had stashed there, and got right back into the nineteenth century drama. He put on a playlist with a lot of old funk and soul music, his foot tapping along. 

The bell above the door jangled and a woman rushed in, closing an umbrella and looking frazzled. “Hi! Could I get a dozen cupcakes?”

“Sure, what kind?” Blaine asked, hopping off the stool and picking up a box. 

The woman was digging in her purse. “Oh, anything. You decide,” she muttered, pulling out a compact and a red lipstick, not even looking Blaine’s way while she fixed her make-up and straightened her short dark hair. 

Trying not to roll his eyes, Blaine picked twelve of his most popular flavours. Even though she seemed immune to the charms of creatively crafted cupcakes, some of the people eating them might be more interested. He taped his mini-brochure to the top of the box and tied the box with a rainbow ribbon.

She rushed off without even thanking him, and Blaine sank back on his stool. Customers like that helped pay the bills, but he had thought owning a cupcake cafe would be a lot different. He pictured regular customers coming and enjoying the space, chatting with them. Helping people plan birthdays and other special occasions. He had been open a year, and none of that had really happened. 

Walking to the window, he saw it was still raining but not as hard. Angling his head, he had a good view of the cafe across the street. As he watched, a man was leaving, holding the door for a couple entering. 

That cafe had much steadier business, especially in the mornings. Blaine glanced over at his drip coffee maker, considering again if he should upgrade to a large espresso machine. Hire a barista to craft hot beverages. Give the cafe a run for their money. 

Turning away, he shook his head. He was a baker, and he wanted to develop the business around that. Good things took time, like cupcakes in the oven. Only the right temperature and perfect amount of time transformed batter into golden brown, gently curved, fluffy, sweet cake. 

...

It had been a quieter day than normal, and Blaine found it more tiring since the time dragged. About an hour before closing, he started sweeping the floor, just for something to do. Cranking up the music, he swayed and danced with the broom. 

_100 days, 100 nights, to know a man’s heart..._

The bell jingled as he executed a bit of a spin, and Blaine chuckled, caught in the act. He turned towards the doorway to greet his customer, smiling, but immediately his expression froze. 

Walking behind the counter, he turned down the music and tried to keep his face polite and neutral. “Um, hi. What can I get you?”

The man was soaking wet, dripping onto the hardwood floor. Beneath the layers of wet clothes, Blaine could tell he was thin. It was hard to tell how tall he was, as he was slouched over, maybe from being cold or ill. A hood was pulled over his head, just as wet as the rest of his clothes, hiding much of his face. 

“How much is coffee?” The whisper was soft and scratchy, hard to hear. 

“$2.25,” Blaine said. 

The man dug into his loose pant pockets, the bulky ill-fitting material making it hard for him the extract the money. Blaine caught a glimpse of the lower part of his face, pale skin with a shocking purple-red bruise on his jaw. Eventually he placed the coins on the counter with dirty hands.

Blaine filled his largest cup with coffee. “Feel free to drink it here and warm up. I don’t close for 45 minutes.”

The man shuffled over to the side counter, adding lots of sugar and cream to his drink. He took a table the furthest away, facing towards the window, still huddled under his wet clothes. 

It made Blaine almost want to cry. He had the impression the guy was around Blaine’s age. How had he gotten to this state? Was he homeless? Did he have a shopping cart full of all his possessions stashed in the back alley? Sleeping in a cardboard box with a plastic tarp?

Picking up a box, Blaine put six cupcakes into it, finishing it with his normal rainbow ribbon. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the table. “So, since it’s near closing time, I’d like to give you a sample pack of our cupcakes. And help yourself to more coffee. I have to throw out the rest of the pot soon anyways.”

Without waiting for a response, he picked up the broom and went back to sweeping. When he glanced back a few minutes later, the box was open, and two cupcake liners were sitting on the table. 

About five minutes before closing, his customer shuffled to the coffee station for a refill. He left soon after, pausing at the door, mumbling a soft “Thanks.”

Blaine sighed, walking to the window to watch the man moving down the street, the cupcake box tucked under his arm to keep dry. It wasn’t the most nutritious food, but at least it might keep him from being hungry tonight. 

...

**_February 7th..._ **

“And look! It has a USB plug right here! You can charge your phone as you drive,” Sam gushed, showing Blaine every gadget of the car enthusiastically.

Blaine grinned at his friend. “This is an awesome car, Sam. Your first time buying a new one?”

Sam smiled back, eyes glowing. “Yup! I needed something more reliable than my old clunker to drive across the country. It’s a splurge, but with the new job and everything...”

Giving him a half hug, Blaine felt truly proud of his friend. “I’m happy for you. You are perfectly suited to this.” It was a job with an east coast college, an assistant in the football coaching area. “So, what are you doing with your old car and all your stuff?”

“Most stuff I own isn’t worth moving. I’ll just pack what I can in this car and donate the rest. The old hatchback too. It’s not worth enough to bother trying to sell it. Want anything?”

Blaine nodded, his thoughts in a whirl.

...

**_February 10th..._ **

The bell jangled, and Blaine felt a rush of excitement. He had to be careful, really careful, about how he handled this. 

The man shuffled to the counter, dry this time, but looking dirtier and even more bent over than his previous visits. He put the money on the counter, and Blaine poured him the coffee. 

Giving it five minutes, Blaine gathered his nerve and the envelope he had stashed below the counter. He walked over to the table, and sat down across from the man, barely able to see much of his face below the hood pulled down so low.

“Look, you’ve been coming here a few times a week, and I’ve been happy to give you coffee and a warm place to hang out for a while,” Blaine started.

“Are you kicking me out?” The man whispered, seeming to shrink down defensively a little. 

“No!” Blaine said quickly, and laid the bulging envelope down in the table. “Nothing like that. Um, it’s just that you seem a little down on your luck lately and a friend of mine has had some good..., um, luck.”

There was an awkward pause, as Blaine fumbled for the right words, sensing his customer was about to leave. They had never really talked before. 

“Anyways, he is moving out of state and couldn’t take most of his stuff with him. I thought I could give it to you, and whatever you don’t need, just give to friends or donate,” Blaine said, flushing, bending his head. “There’s also his old car. He signed the registration papers, so just fill in your name and it’s yours. No strings attached.”

He pushed the envelope towards the man, and then got up, grabbing his broom and sweeping vigorously. He had probably completely insulted a poor man, kicked him when he was already down. It was kindly meant, but he knew it was hard to accept charity. Dignity was one of the things we clung to just to get through our day, even when we were at our worst. 

The envelope contained the car keys, the outside labelled with the car’s make and model, and described where it was parked. It had a full tank of gas, and the trunk was full of Sam’s cast off clothes and anything else useful. Old towels and a sleeping bag. Some food from his cupboard. It hadn’t cost Blaine anything, and it was all stuff Sam was going to donate to charity, even the car.

Ten minutes later, Blaine looked back to the table. The man was gone. But so was the envelope.

...

**_March 13th..._ **

About a month later, Blaine was locking up, and didn’t feel like going home to his quiet apartment. On a whim, he headed across the street to the cafe. He’d never actually been inside it before. Maybe he could pick up some ideas for his bakery. 

It was late afternoon, so the cafe was mostly empty. Blaine looked at the case of baked goods, finding the typical muffins, scones, and savoury options. “Um, just a medium drip,” he murmured. 

“Are you sure? Our special today is a flat white. Same charge,” the barista said, with an unusual voice that had Blaine looking away from the food. 

The barista was a little taller than Blaine, with short brown hair and large blue-grey eyes. He was very good looking, but seemed shy, barely meeting Blaine’s eyes. 

Always a sucker for things like that, Blaine gave a small nod and smile. “That sounds wonderful.”

He put down the money, and soon carried the large mug over to a table. Sitting down, he realized he had a good view of the barista, and watched as he wiped the counter, cleaned the espresso machine, and served the occasional customer. He seemed to know what he was doing, and Blaine’s drink was well prepared, but Blaine could see the barista’s hesitations and short pauses. He was still new in the job, and didn’t quite have the flow down yet. 

More than once, the barista flicked glances his way, and Blaine gave him small smiles in return. Was this something? Flirting? It was so cliche, having a crush on a handsome barista. He bet this one had both men and women constantly coming on to him. 

But as he finished his drink, the barista appeared at his table. “Here’s a sample pack of our cookies. Thanks for coming in.”

And he spun away before Blaine could thank him. Stunned, Blaine took the little paper bag and left, giving the barista a little thank you wave.

At home, he had dinner and then put the cookies on a plate to enjoy with some tea as he watched Netflix. Just unwinding.

The cookies were pretty and small. Shortbread, oatmeal and chocolate chip. It was really nice of that barista to give them to him. Had it been another way to flirt, to get Blaine’s attention?

Blaine loved shortbread, so picked it up first and took a good sized bite. It was awful. So awful, Blaine considered spitting it into his napkin. He looked down, aghast. How could anyone make a cookie so bland and tasteless?

He took small tentative bites of the other ones and they were just as bad. 

Had people forgotten what cookies should taste like? That delicate crispy exterior, and moist interior? Subtle blends of good quality butter and vanilla? 

He was digging through old cookbooks for the next hour, and took pictures of a dozen recipes with his phone before the night was done. 

...

**_March 19th..._ **

One week later, he put his ‘Be Back in Ten Minutes’ sign on his bakery door, and locked it behind him. He marched across the street to the cafe, and went right to the counter. The barista was there, his eyes lighting up at seeing Blaine. 

“Hi, um, is the manager in? I’d like to talk to him,” Blaine said, trying to sound business-like. 

“Sure, I’ll get her. Would you like a drink? I do a good cappuccino,” the hot barista offered, with a small smile that made a dimple pop on one cheek. Was it just Blaine, or was he even better looking than before? Standing a bit taller, wearing nicer clothes?

Blaine nodded, and set down some money with a good tip. 

After popping into the back room, the barista made his drink. Blaine sat down, waiting for the manager to appear. 

A woman in her mid-thirties appeared, her sandy blond hair in a messy bun and wearing large dark-framed glasses. She sat down, smiling at Blaine. “You asked to see the manager? I’m Janine Harper.”

Blaine introduced himself and shook her hand, feeling a little uncomfortable. “Um, Ms. Harper, I own the bakery across the street, and I came in here last week after work. I happened to try your cookies-“

“Oh yes, they are awful. Did you want a refund?”

Shocked at her quick response, Blaine was speechless for a few seconds. “No, no, that’s fine. But, um, why do you serve them if they aren’t good?”

Janine shrugged. “We use a bakery for most of our goods. Mostly we sell muffins with coffee in the morning, and they do that well.”

Blaine lifted the box from his lap, setting it on the table. “Look, I took the liberty of playing around with a few recipes lately. Here’s a sample of my cookies. Perhaps you could try them?”

She looked down at the box wrapped with the rainbow ribbon and with the mini-brochure on top. “Oh, OK. Since you went to all this trouble.”

Getting up, Blaine held his hand out to shake her’s again. “No pressure, Ms. Harper. My contact details are on the brochure if you want to reach me later. Good day.”

Glancing at the barista quickly, he thought he saw a small smile there. He nodded at him before leaving. 

...

**_April 4th..._ **

The bell jingled, and Blaine glanced up from his book. The barista. He straightened up, glancing down to make sure he wasn’t covered with flour or anything else. 

“Oh, hi. Are you picking up the cookie order today? Is Greg busy?” Blaine asked, turning to get the large box from the back room. 

The barista was leaning against the counter, looking around. Simply delicious in black jeans and a teal green cardigan. “Yes, Greg is busy, so you get Kurt the Barista instead.”

Blaine got him to sign the order form, and put it in the till. “You gave me those cookies on purpose, didn’t you? Knowing they were awful?”

Kurt smirked, “I’ve had better tasting sawdust.” That irresistible dimple was back. “Now, can I also get a dozen cupcakes? It’s Greg’s birthday, so no one will think it’s strange I bring them in for everyone to try.”

Grabbing a box, Blaine chuckled, filling the box with the cupcakes Kurt pointed to. 

“And definitely a lemon chiffon. I’ll make sure Janine gets that one. She’ll be sure to start adding cupcakes to your order after trying that,” Kurt said, pulling out his wallet. 

“You are trying to get the cafe to sell my cupcakes too?” Blaine asked, giving Kurt a searching look. Why was he doing this?

Kurt shrugged, putting his wallet away. “They are delicious.” And he scooped up the boxes and was soon gone. 

...

**_May 1st..._ **

“Fuck!” Blaine swore, slamming the car door hard. It was starting to rain, and he just looked around, tired and irritated. 

“Car problems?” 

Spinning towards the voice, Blaine saw a man with his hood over his head, bent over slightly to keep the rain off his face, and was reminded of his old customer from a few months ago. What had ever happened to him? Had he been able to use the car and clothes? 

But as the man neared, Blaine recognized him as Kurt. “Yeah, dead battery. I need a boost.”

The rain really started to come down, and they both stepped back into a doorway, trying to keep dry. It was close, just the two of them, and Blaine swallowed hard. Kurt looked so good, his skin pale, his eyes sea green in this light. 

Kurt chuckled. “I could help you with that, but how about we wait until it stops raining?”

“Um, sure,” Blaine said, feeling grateful for the help. He had never been that great with cars, despite his father trying to teach him that one summer. He preferred puttering around a kitchen instead of a garage.

“How about we get dinner? I’m pretty hungry after work.”

Blaine blinked a few times. Was this a date? With the hot barista he’d been crushing on for weeks? “Um, yes! Yes, that sounds...fun,” he fumbled to say, his awkwardness getting a fond smile from Kurt. 

“Great!” Kurt said, and grabbed Blaine’s arm. “Let’s run for it, so we don’t get as wet going to my car.”

Exhilarated from Kurt’s touch and the idea of the date, Blaine felt like he was flying, running through the rain with this beautiful man at his side. 

Kurt guided them around a corner, clicking on a remote to unlock the car. Blaine saw the lights flashing in the darkness, and yanked open the passenger door and hopped in, just happy to be out of the rain. 

It was an old car, but very clean. A blanket covered the back seat, and the front seats were covered too. But despite all that, he knew this car. His eyes went to the rear view mirror, and the long rainbow ribbon dangling from it.

Kurt put the key in the ignition, and was about to start the car, but Blaine put his hand over his. Stopping him.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Tell me?”

Rain pounded down on the roof of the car, drizzling over the windshield. It was around twilight, but light enough to see Kurt’s rain-wet skin. 

He pushed his hood back, shaking his damp hair out of his face. “How could I do that, exactly? What could I say? Hey, I’m the homeless waif you saved? Thanks!” He looked down, clearly uncomfortable. “I wanted to say something, thank you, so many times, Blaine.”

Blaine nodded, but he really didn’t understand. “I’m not looking for gratitude, Kurt. But I was worried about you, when I didn’t see you at the bakery again. I wondered how you were doing.”

“I lived in this car, Blaine. It was a thousand times better than what I had before. A safe, dry, clean place to sleep. A place to store stuff. I didn’t have much money at first, so I didn’t drive it far. No money for gas,” Kurt said softly, his eyes following the raindrops running down the windshield. 

It seemed unreal. That this man, who didn’t seem to have drug or mental issues, had been homeless. “Um, how did you- I mean, it’s none of my business but how-“

Kurt sighed, turning in his seat towards Blaine, his shoulders curled in slightly. “I think you saw the bruises, that first day. I had to escape, before he hurt me more. Left behind everything, my wallet, keys, phone, clothes... Hid out in back alleys, wet and freezing, just happy to be away from him.”

Reaching out, Blaine pulled Kurt into a hug. He stiffened at first, but then seemed to consciously push himself to relax, sinking against Blaine. 

Blaine tucked his head against Kurt’s neck, holding him tight, rubbing his hand against his back. Just wanting to take away all the pain and fear and loneliness from Kurt. He had been gay bashed by strangers as a teen. How much worse would it be to be beaten by a partner, be under their control, unable to get away or ask for help?

Over the years, he had learned a little about domestic abuse. How it went in cycles, a honeymoon period of apologies and ‘never agains’, followed by increasing tension where the abused person walked on eggshells, trying to do everything to keep the abuser happy, and the inevitable beating. The abuser isolating them systematically from others, gradually taking control of their finances. Breaking them down psychologically. Emotionally. Although he hadn’t experienced it himself, he had an outsider’s understanding.

“You got out of there. Away from him. That took amazing courage, Kurt,” Blaine said softly. 

Kurt was shaking against him, and Blaine knew he was crying. He just held him tighter, crying a few tears of his own. 

Eventually Kurt pulled back, and grabbed a clean napkin from a cubby in the dashboard, wiping his cheeks and blowing his nose. “Your kindness gave me hope, Blaine. Just the way you let me stay in your cafe to warm up, never shooing me away like they did other places. And then you gave me the car...”

“It was really just from a friend moving away. You can thank him if you want,” Blaine said, thinking of how much more he could have done. 

Kurt grinned, giving a weak chuckle. “The funniest thing was sorting through the car and finding his gym membership. At first I thought it was hilarious. Just what a homeless man needs, to workout!”

Blaine chuckled, feeling better. “That’s Sam. He’s a bit of a gym rat. It’s his happy place.”

“It turned out great, actually. I went every day to shower, and change into clean clothes. When I was able to get the cafe job, I did use the pool, just lazily doing laps and floating on my back. It was a good place to hang out, actually,” Kurt explained.

“So, how did you get money and all that?” Blaine asked because Kurt seemed open to talking about it. 

“I did bottle picking a little before I had the car. It’s messy and hard to make much. When I had the car, I went to my old apartment and waited until my ex left for work. I begged the super to let me in, and I was able to get a suitcase of my stuff out. Got my wallet back and went to cancel everything with both our names on it. Made it so he couldn’t touch me financially,” Kurt said, his voice sounding stronger. 

“And you got a job at the cafe,” Blaine said. 

Kurt nodded. “I worked in a cafe a bit after high school, so it wasn’t that hard to convince Janine to hire me, once I was cleaned up. It’s going to take a while to get everything together, but I’m doing OK.”

“Are you still sleeping in this car?” Blaine asked.

“No, no,” Kurt chuckled. “I found a furnished room for rent. I have my own bedroom and share the rest of an apartment with some other guys.”

Blaine must have made a funny expression at that. 

“It’s not fancy, but it’s safe. If my ex somehow comes around, he won’t find me alone,” Kurt said, and turned back to start the car. “Now enough talking about all that. Let’s have a good dinner and then fix your car.”

...

They went out for Vietnamese food, eating big bowls of pho, fish sauce and grilled shrimp. Sharing crunchy spring rolls. It was tasty, inexpensive food in a simple restaurant, but Blaine couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a meal more. 

The rain had stopped by the time they got back to Blaine’s car, and Kurt quickly boosted it. He climbed inside. 

“We should let it run a few minutes before disconnecting the cables. Let it charge a little,” Kurt said nonchalantly.

“You seem to know a lot about cars,” Blaine commented.

Kurt shrugged a shoulder. “My dad had a tire and lube shop. I worked there as a teenager.”

“Well, I really need to thank you for dinner and the boost,” Blaine said, his eyes drawn down to Kurt's lips.

“Oh, it’s nothing-“ Kurt started.

Blaine kissed him, cutting off whatever else he was going to say. Kurt kissed him back, just as eagerly, his fingers going into his curly hair. 

Several minutes later, Kurt pulled back. He looked beautiful, his eyes large, his lips slightly swollen from the kisses.

“And now I need to thank you for getting me the contract with the cafe,” Blaine said, grabbing Kurt’s shoulder to pull him closer again. 

Kurt resisted, shaking his head with a rueful smile. “And then I’ll have to thank you for all the things you’ve done for me, and we’ll be here all night.” He reached over, taking Blaine’s hand. “We like each other, and definitely have chemistry. But I’m still getting over what happened before. We need to take things really, really slowly, OK?”

Blaine squeezed his hand. “Yes, Kurt. As slow as you want.”

Kurt unhooked the cables, and went back to his own car. He waited for Blaine to drive, making sure his car was working. 

Driving home, Blaine felt good, and put on one of his favourite playlists. 

_100 days, 100 nights to know a man’s heart_  
_100 days, 100 nights to know a man’s heart_  
_And a little more before he knows his own_

Everything had changed the day Kurt had come into his bakery. Blaine had helped a stranger in a few small ways, never expecting anything in return. 

Then he’d met a barista, and now he had a regular order with the cafe. Already, many more people were coming into his bakery, placing orders for cupcakes for parties, and trying his other treats. People who had sampled his desserts at the cafe. Kurt had helped him, never expecting anything in return. 

Despite everything Kurt had been through, Blaine knew he was a good person. He had a good heart. He just needed some time to know himself again. And Blaine would be there every step of the way.

...

-A/N: Thanks for reading. It was fun writing this trope mash-up.

Tropes:  
"Welcome to my bakery, have a cupcake and fall in love with me"  
+  
"You ordered coffee but my heart comes as a bonus"  
+  
"My background has been horrible and I’ve been a slave/homeless/etc - all the hurt/comfort"

-100 Days Song: The title and the song that’s playing at the beginning and end are from ‘100 Days, 100 Nights’ by Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings. They were part of a revivalist movement recreating mid-1960s to mid-1970s style funk and soul music, putting out albums from 2002-2017. Link to video is [here.](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=8ouI5KcyHfE)

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